400 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND EMILY NEWSPAPER. 
0 w a 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
“WRITING FOR THE PAPERS/’ Etc. 
Eos. Rural : — In some recent remarks on 
The Art of Composition,” you say that 
“an elegant, simple and perspicuous style 
of writing is one of the highest accomplish¬ 
ments of the scholar; and one too, which 
can be acquired by all men of ordinary ca¬ 
pacity and ordinary education. It can be 
even self-acquired, although in that,as in all 
other branches, the aid of a competent in¬ 
structor is highly desirable.” This is very 
true, but it will bo found that the great ma¬ 
jority of those who “ write for the papers,” 
both in prose and verse, were mainly self- 
taught, and that whatever facility they 
possess, is the result of persevering practico. 
Most of those who take up writing of them- 
selves, commence with rhyming; a fact 
which I will not undertake to explain—but 
will simply say, that I know from a wide 
acquaintance with thoso who write, that 
such is the case. Some never get any 
farther than this; others attain to good 
prose and fair pootry, but it is all the result 
of persevering practico. 
That all scholars of ordinary capacity and 
education can learn the art of composition, 
I have not the least disposition to dispute. 
Rut I know they will not learn it as it is 
taught at present—they will not learn it 
until they gain that lively interest which 
shall lead them to delight in it, and to prac¬ 
tice it for tho pleasure which it bestows in 
return. When they come to learn that to 
write is only to speak, in their best manner, 
tho thoughts naturally suggested by the 
subject thoy would discuss—when they be¬ 
gin to choose subjects upon which they aro 
accustomed to think—then will they roallv 
begin to learn the art of composition—then, 
after sufficient practice, will many of them 
commence “writing for the papers,” both 
acceptably and interestingly. You have 
scon, Messrs. Editors, more or less attempts 
at composition from those who had learned 
none of theso things, and who yet “ had 
their aspirations”—aspirations which came 
before tho public in a “respectfully declin¬ 
ed,” or mot with a silent but pitying rejec¬ 
tion. 
I have before me a letter from one—whom 
voars of experience had taught something 
about writing for tho public, as well as given 
an encouraging measure of success—to an¬ 
other of as good or superior natural powers, 
but a comparative beginner; which I am 
tempted to send you, as expressing views 
which may bo of uso to some of your poeti¬ 
cal contributors. It accompanied a poem 
returned with corrections and suggestions 
of amendment—considerately yet hopefully 
utterod—the only tons and spirit in which 
a young writer of promise should be exam¬ 
ined and criticised. r. n. y. 
when I give you my opinions at all, you 
shall have my honest thoughts, and to those 
you aro welcome, as long as you receive 
them in the spirit in which they are offered. 
Yours cordially, *H.* 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
DESULTORY READINGS AND SCEIEBLINGS. 
-, Thursday, March 23, 1348. 
My Dear Friend: —“Faithful are tho 
wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an 
enemy aro deceitful,” said the wise Prover- 
bialist, so bear with mo while I lecture you, 
once again. Labor , patient plodding toil, 
is as necessary to success as genius. “ Ad¬ 
mirably conceivod ! neglectfully executed !” 
is tho exclamation of many an editor, over 
the unpolished oros which come to his hand. 
* * * * This is a fault of mine—this 
want of polish — as well as yours, and it is 
one which I can only overcome, even meas¬ 
urably, by spending hours, perhaps, on a 
single sentence. And I had better do this 
than to let a thought worth printing at all 
go off my hands in any other shape than 
the very best I can give it. One short poem, 
finished and complete, is worthy of, and will 
gain mcro admiration, than volumes of un¬ 
polished and crude conceptions. If we 
study attentively th8 best poets, we shall 
see that they make every word tell in tho 
progress and for the advancement of the ef¬ 
fect intended. No incongruous word or 
sentiment is admitted—but all is harmoni¬ 
ous, so that all may bo complete. 
Your poem is worthy of being labored on 
yet more. Thoughts and feelings are ex¬ 
pressed therein, worthy of tho heart which 
utters them so touchingly, and they should 
not go forth in the ore, or as unpolished 
g9ms, liable to be mistaken for common and 
worthless rubbish. It is well to write rap¬ 
idly— it is also well to correct studiously 
and carefully. “ It is strange,” you say, 
“ that one cannot sco their own defects.”— 
Practice will sharpen one’s eyes, and we 
must learn, however humiliating it may be, 
to see what an enemy might say of us, or 
our writings. This is valuable in moro rc- 
spocts than one, as an acquaintance with the 
world readily teaches us. 
You will not blame ray plainness, when 
you think bow much easier it is to praise 
and flatter than it is to judge discriminately 
and express that judgment candidly. But; 
Four Kinds of Readers. — Coleridge 
says that there are four kinds of readers. 
Tho first is like the hour-glass; and their 
reading being as the sand, it runs in and 
runs out, and leaves not a vestigo behind. 
A second is like the sponge, which imbibes 
every thing, and returns it in nearly the 
same state, only a little dirtier. A third is 
lilco a jelly-bag, allowing all that is pure to 
pass away, and retaining only tho refuse and 
dregs. And tho fourth is like the slave in 
the diamond mines of Golconda, who, cast¬ 
ing aside all that is worthless, retains only 
pure gems. 
Books. —Nobly, indeed, has the author of 
“Paradise Lost” expressed himself, in treat¬ 
ing of the liberty of tho press. “Books , 1 
says ho, “aro not absolutely dead things, 
but do contain a potency of life in them, to 
be as active as that soul whoso progeny they 
aro ; nay, they do preserve as in a vial, the 
purest efficacy and extraction of that living 
intellect that bred them: A good book is 
tho precious life-blood of a master-spirit, 
embalmed and treasured up on purpose to 
a life beyond life.” 
How to be a Man. —When Carlyle was 
asked by a young friend to point out what 
courso of reading he thought best to make 
him a man, horeplied in his usual character¬ 
istic manner:—“It is not by books alone, or 
by books chiefly, that a man becomes in all 
points a man. Study to do faithfully what¬ 
soever thing in your actual situation, then 
and now, you find either expressly or tacitly 
laid down to your charge—that is, stand to 
your post; stand in it liko a true soldier.— 
Silently devour the many chagrins of it— 
all situations have many—and see you aim 
not to quit it, without doing all that is your 
duty.” _ 
Education. — Locke, cnco on a time, be¬ 
ing asked by a school teacher, how to get 
at the truo secret of education, remarked: 
“ Ho that has found a way to keep a child’s 
spirit easy, active, and free, and yet at tho 
same time to restrain him from manv things 
4/ O 
he has a mind to, and to draw him to things 
that are uneasy to him —he, I say, who knows 
how to reconcile theso seeming contradic¬ 
tions, has, in my opinion, got the truo secret 
of education.”— l. 
Scolding and Fretting. — Somo teach¬ 
ers, liko some parents, are forever scolding 
and fretting, and a pleasant smile upon their 
faces is as totally unknown as a winter sun 
in the regions of Polar ico. In the latter 
locality, the god of day hides his face in a 
six months’ night, and in tho school-room 
certain teachers veil their faces in cloud and 
storm, in order to render a naturally home¬ 
ly physiognomy as forbidding as possible.— 
A good natured teacher is one of heaven’s 
best gifts to the young, and a hearty laugh 
at a ludicrous mistake, or an amusing inci¬ 
dent, in which teachor and pupils all join, is 
frequently a better enlivener of ideas in a 
school than a wholesale administration of 
birch or ferule. 
EDUCATION OF IDIOTS. 
iisiirmal. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorlcer. 
CANADA. — No. I. 
BY J. CLEMENT. 
• SEASONS 
It was a mother’s love that proved tho 
capacity of tho idiot for improvement.— 
Before any scientific experiments had been 
made in tho education of idiots, a lady in 
Massachusetts, occupying a high position in 
society, and whose husband was one of the 
prominent public men of that State, had 
two children, both idiotic. When tho terri¬ 
ble conviction of this fact was first forced 
upon her, she gave up all society, removed 
from tho city to a retired country place, and 
devoted the whole energies of her nature, 
stimulated by tho strong, undying affection 
of a mother, to their improvement. The 
result was that they improved both physi¬ 
cally and mentally, were able to go" to 
school, receive prizes for scholarship, and 
finally graduated in ono of our best Col¬ 
leges, receiving some of tho honors which 
aro bestowed on tho few. If those children 
had received the ordinary treatment, they 
would have passed through life wretched 
objocts of pity and di3gust, instead of being 
respected members of socioty.— Wesleyan. 
Ignorance vs. Knowledge.— Ignorance 
pays such a tax that wo can’t imagine how 
any body can afford to bo a blockhead. Me 
Cracken works for a dollar a day, while 
Spring, his neighbor, commands 20 shillings. 
A wide difference, and all caused by Spring’s 
knowing how to read, write and cypher.— 
From these figures it will be soon "that Me 
Crackcn’s want of knowledge costs him four 
hundred dollars a year—which shows that 
ignorance costs him moro than his wife and 
children, house rent inclusive.— JY. Y. 
Dutchman. 
Parents who do not set a good example, 
in their own acts , can not oxpect good from 
their children. 
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY,— CLIMATE,' 
AND PRODUCTIONS. 
The territory embraced in tho two Cana¬ 
dian Provinces, is estimated to contain 196,- 
000.000 acres of dry land. It is about four¬ 
teen hundred miles in length, and from two 
to four hundred in width. Traversing it by 
the river St. Lawrence and lakes Ontario, 
Erie, St. Clair, Huron and Superior, and 
the streams which connect them, the dis¬ 
tance, stretching along the shore of naviga¬ 
ble waters, is two thousand miles. This 
country lies between the meridians of fifty- 
seven degrees and fifty minutes, and ono 
hundred and seven degrees west longitudo, 
and tho latitudes of forty-two and fifty-two 
degrees north. 
The soil and general aspect of a country 
having so wide a range of territory, is ne¬ 
cessarily somewhat varied. The great val¬ 
ley of the St. Lawrence is hedged in, on 
either side, by ranges of mountains, hero 
and there pressing close to tho shores, and 
giving a barren appearance to tho country; 
in other parts, receding and leaving broad 
and rich intervals, presenting a picture of 
most grateful luxuriance.* Among tho 
most prominent of tho mountains which 
wall tho north shoro of that great river, is 
Cape Tourment, which commences twenty- 
five miles east of Quebec, and stretches a 
little south of west, for three hundred 
miles. Between it and tho St. Lawronco is 
a lovol tract, from ten to forty miles wide, 
fertile in its nature, and in some places 
highly picturesque in its appearance.— 
North of that ridgo is another range run¬ 
ning north-westerly, into the interior, and 
forming the height of land which divides 
tho tributaries of the St. Lawrence from 
those of Hudson’s Bay. 
The soil of Upper Canada, is, as a gene¬ 
ral thing, better than that of Lower. It 
consists of dark loam; in somo localities its 
color is red. It is usually mixed with veg¬ 
etable mould, and in the southern parts is 
vory rich and tolerably well cultivated. Its 
nature is varied sufficiently to adapt it to 
tho production of almost overy kind of 
grain and domestic vegetable raised in the 
northern temperate zone. Most sections 
are favorable to tho growth of wheat, corn, 
rye, barley, oats, buckwheat, poas, potatoes, 
boans, hops, hemp and tho various kinds 
of tamo grasses. The southern parts, west 
of lake Ontario, produce peaches, plums, 
grapes, &c. 
The land along tho north shoro of lake 
Ontario, is slightly elevated, and, though 
presenting here and there a pleasant slope, 
is rather level. Through it runs a ridge 
which sweeps around tho head of the lake 
—where it is known as Burlington Heights 
and extends into Now York at Niagara. 
Falls. It makes an agreeable diversity in 
the landscape, and where it spreads west¬ 
ward between lakes Erie and Huron, it 
forms extensive and exceedingly productive 
table-lands. 
Tho vast inlet of tho Bay of Quinta, com¬ 
mencing just above Kingston, and forming 
an indentation of sixty or eighty miles, and 
taking in tho towns of Belleville and Picton, 
is highly fructiferous. Between tho penin¬ 
sula of Prince Edward — of which Picton 
is tho chief town—and tho head of lake On¬ 
tario, aro soveral nourishing and handsome 
cities and villages. Among them are Co- 
bourg, sevcr.tv-two miles east of Toronto ; 
Port Hope, seven miles west; Darlington, 
twenty miles farther west; Toronto, the 
late capital, with its thirty-two thousand in¬ 
habitants; and Hamilton, with a population 
of fifteen thousand, nestled most eozily on 
the shore of Burlington Bay and half walled 
in by Burlington Heights. 
Thirty-five miles north of Ontario, is lake 
Simcoe, a beautiful sheet of water, com¬ 
municating by tho Severn river, with Geor¬ 
gian Bay, on lake Huron. Tho neck of land 
between lakes Ontario and Simcoe, is the 
eastern extremity of tho table lands before 
referred to, and which lie in tho shape of a 
peninsula. This peninsula contains about 
nine millions acres, or, in otbor words, is 
about the size of the Stato of Maryland. It 
lies in a very salubrious climate. Farther 
west, along the shoro of lake Superior, tho 
country is skirted with table-lands which are 
fertile and present, in tho summer soason,a 
luxuriant robo, which calls forth tho admi¬ 
ration of every traveler. At the foot of 
those lands aro rocky headlands of old red 
sandstone, the tops of which overlook scenes 
of tho most solemn grandeur. Tho geolo¬ 
gist, liko Hugh, would there luxuriato in tho 
field of science, and tho poet feed his soul 
on tho manna of tho sublime and beautiful. 
’ Views of Canada and the Colonies, by Jas. P. Brows. 
We are indebted to the same source for other facts, iu re¬ 
gard to parts we have not visited. 
Copper, wo may add, in passing, is there 
found in abundance, and the Canadians are 
beginning to work tho inexhaustible mines, 
which stretch eastward to tho Huron, and 
far along its shoro. 
Tho climate of Canada has been much 
abused. The winters in the southern and 
most populous part, aro similar to thoso in 
tho States lying contiguous; and tho spring 
work commences in Upper Canada tho early 
part of April. Wo have seen farmers plow¬ 
ing in the vicinity of Niagara Falls, in 
March. In Juno the air bccomos balmy; 
July and August aro uncomfortably warm; 
September is mild and charming; and the 
“Indian Summer,” commencing usually 
about tho middle of October, and often ex¬ 
tending into November, is exceedingly de¬ 
lightful. We know not where it is moro so ; 
for tho air is then soft and hazy; a mellow 
light overspreads the landscape; the skies, 
frequently for a dozen consecutive days, are 
cloudless and serene; tho forests are mag¬ 
nificently attired; and everything is pleasant 
to the senses and refreshing to the spirits. 
Somo of the most delightful autumn days 
we have ever known, were passed in rambles 
around the head of lako Ontario. Wood¬ 
land scenos aro nowhere else in the valley 
of tho Lakes more gorgeous. The maple, 
beech, ash, elm, oak, basswood, hickory, 
cherry, chestnut, birch, cedar, &c., present 
their parti-colored leaves, vicing with each 
other in brilliancy of hue, and making a 
glorious appearance. 
Tho prevailing winds in the Province, aro 
tho south-west, north-west, and north-east. 
The last only can bo denominated disagree¬ 
able. It is usually cold and damp, like the 
same wind in tho New England and somo 
of tho other States, and has a nourishing 
influence on morosencss and “the blues.” 
The north-west, which is the prevailing win¬ 
ter wind, is also cold, but is usually dry and 
elastic, making ono feel vigorous, and brac¬ 
ing bis courage for tho storms of life. It 
never fans the cold brow of the suicide ; is 
tho great c-xpellor of heavy thunder-show¬ 
ers; the herald of hard frost; and the 
chorister at tho grave of Indian Summer. 
Tho south-west wind, which prevails nearly 
throe-fourths of tho warm season, is the 
most welcome. It brings rich argosies of 
fragrance from the Mississippi valley, and 
tho prairies which bloom beneath its long 
and viewless track. Its breath somo may 
at times regard as sufficiently hot; but it 
is too sweet to bo seriously repulsed. There 
are few winds from due west or south, and 
fewer still from tho north. 
According to tho census taken nearly two 
years ago, there aro 94,449 occupants of 
land in Lower Canada, and 99,860 in Upper 
Canada, making a total of 194,309. The 
amount held by these persons is 17,937,148 
acres, of which 7,303,241 are under cultiva¬ 
tion. Tho kinds of products and the amount 
of each kind produced from the 4,347.539 
acres under crops in 1851, may bo seen at a 
glance, by the following Agricultural ab- 
Notb.—I t should be stated that the grain crops in Low¬ 
er Canada are usually reckoned by the minot, which is 
about one-eighth more than a bushel; and in giving an 
estimate of tho products of Canada, it ought to be men¬ 
tioned that her waters yield annually a hundred thousand 
barrels of fish. Furthermore, about one-fifth in valuation 
of her exports is in the produce of the forest, sucli as 
staves and sawn and unsawn timber. 
An Old Turtle.— Mr. Ashael Clark, of 
Milford, recently picked up a turtlo on his 
farm, which was markod by Aaron Mallory, 
in 1759, and found again in 1813, by Sam¬ 
uel Clark, who inscribed his initials and tho 
date upon it. Tito first date, it will bo ob¬ 
served, was ninety-four years ago. How 
much older it is. of course there is no moans 
of knowing. What is a little singular in this 
caso is the fact, that Mr. Ashael Clark, who 
recently found it, was with his brother Sam¬ 
uel when it was found and marked by him 
forty years since. It was found in both of 
tho latter instances in the same lot, and 
within a fow rod3 of tho same place. After 
adding his name to tho traveling record, 
Mr. Clark again sot tho old follow on his 
“ course ol time.” —JYew Haven Palladium. 
struct from Parliamentary returns 
Lower 
Upper 
Canada. 
Canada. 
Total. 
Produce. 
Bushels. 
Bushels. 
Wheat . 
.3,075,868 
12,693,853 
ln,7(ib,720 
Barley . 
. (168,620 
6^t>,875 
1,294.501 
live. 
. 341,443 
479,651 
821,094 
Brans. 
. 23,602 
18.169 
41,711 
Peas. 
. 1,182,190 
2,873,394 
4,055,584 
Oats. 
.8,067.694 
11,193,844 
20,161,438 
Buckwheat. 
. 630,417 
639,384 
1.109.‘' ! 
Maize. 
. 400,287 
1.606,513 
2,096,800 
Potatoes. 
. 456.111 
4,987.475 
9.443,580 
Turnips . 
. 369,909 
3,611 912 
4,01 1,851 
Clover and Grass Seeds. 
. 18,921 
42,460 
61.381 
Carrots . 
. 82,344 
17 4,895 
257,239 
Mangel Wurzel . 
. 103,999 
64,226 
163,225 
Tons. 
Tons. 
Tons. 
Hay . 
965,653 
081,682 
l.G 47,335 
Lbs. 
Lbs. 
Lbs. 
Hops . 
. 111,153 
113.064 
22 4,222 
Flax or Hemp . 
.1,867,016 
50.650 
1,917,666 
Tobacco . 
. 488,652 
704,576 
1,253,128 
Wool . 
. 1,430.976 
2,699,704 
4.130,740 
Maple Sugar . 
.6.190.694 
3,581,505 
9,772.199 
Butter . 
.9,637,152 
15.976,315 
25,613,467 
Cheese. 
. 511,014 
2.226,776 
2,737,790 
Gallons. 
Gallons. 
Gallons. 
Cider. 
. 53.327 
701.612 
754,939 
Yards. 
Y ards. 
Yards. 
Failed Cloth. 
. 780,894 
527,466 
1,303,357 
Linen . 
. 889,523 
14,955 
904,478 
Fianrte!. 
. 860,850 
1,169,301 
2,030,151 
Live Stock. 
Numbers. 
Numbers. 
Numbers. 
Bulls, Oxen, and Steers. 
. 111.819 
193,982 
305,801 
Milch Cows ... 
294.514 
296,924 
’ 691,438 
Calves and Heifers, . . . 
180,317 
254.988 
435,305 
Horses . 
. 236,1(77 
203,300 
439,377 
Sheep . 
. 629.827 
988,022 
1,597,849 
Pigs . 
. 256,219 
569.237 
825,456 
Barrels. 
Barrels. 
Barrels. 
Beef . 
. 63.747 
817,746 
886,493 
Pork . 
. 223,870 
528,129 
751,999 
DEATH OF THE YOUNG. 
BY WILI.IS G. CLARK. 
When into dust, like dewy flowers departed, 
From our dim paths the bright and lovely fade; 
The fait- in form, the pure, the gentle-hearted, 
Whose looks within the breast a Sabbath made— 
How like a whisper on the inconstant wind 
yhe memory of their voices stirs the mind! 
We hear the sigh, the song, the fitful laughter, 
That from their lips in balm were wont to flow, 
When Hope’s beguiling wing they hurried after, 
And drank her syren music long ago; 
When Joy’s mild harp to sweetest lays was strung. 
And poured rich numbers for the loved and young. 
lyiten the pure stars are streaming ’ugh in heaven, 
And the low night winds kiss th» .lowering tree, 
And thoughts are deepening in the hush of even. 
How soft those voices on the heart will be! 
They breathe of raptures which hath bloomed and died. 
Of sorrows by remembrance sanctified. 
Yet when the loved have from my pathway vanished, 
What potent magic can their smiles restore ? 
Like some gay sun-burst by the tempest banished, 
They passed in darkness, they, will come no more I 
Unlike the day beam, when the storm hath fled, 
In light renewed breaks on their lowly bed. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
THE SECRET OF HAPPINESS. 
A DYING MANS GOD. 
I knew the old man ; ho was rich, and his 
riches were his God. I rodo in company 
with him a considerable distanco through 
his possessions. I sought means to turn 
tho conversation from his groves, and his 
orchards, his fiolds and his treasures, to 
something moro serious and profitable.— 
But no—his heart was on thoso things :—Ho 
was between eighty and ninety years of age, 
and yet I could not bring him fora moment 
to speak of leaving Iris earthly inheritance. 
To tho Sabbath and tho sanctuary, and all 
the things of God, ho was an utter stranger. 
It was painful to seo an old man. just 
ready to closo his eyes on all that belongs 
to earth, refusing to admit into his mind a 
single thought of death, and that eternity 
so shortly to bo his home. With a kind of 
melancholy satisfaction, I saw him tako a 
different road from myself, thus releasing 
mo from my fruitless efforts to direct his 
mind towards that world where his real in¬ 
terests lay. 
Not long after this interview, disease at¬ 
tacked his mortal frame, giving no doubtful 
intimation that tho machine which had boon 
In motion moro than four-scoro years, was 
about to stand still. As bo lay struggling 
with death, ho spoke of fields of corn, and 
then said, “Bring me my bundle of notes.” 
Inspecting ono of them, ho said, with ear¬ 
nestness, “ I believe wo shall not lose it,” or 
to that effect. While ho thus lay holding 
his notes and obligations before his face, in 
his withered bands—ho died! 
Trust in Providence.—A cheerful trust 
in tho benificenco of Providence, is ono of 
tho most offoetive remedies against tho ills 
of life. Many an anticipated difficulty, onco 
mot with confidence and courago, vanishes 
liko tho morning mist. 
) J 
“ The whole of it is,’ said Uncle Phil, to his dan adder, 
“just do your duty thoroughly, aud you'll he contented in 
this world and happy in the next, and poverty or riches, 
don’t make a straw’s difference either way.”— 'Mrs. Scdoi 
wick. 
“ Do your duty thoroughly,” is indeed, as 
Uncle Phil, says, “tho whole of it”—and 
tho ono grand rule of action for those who 
would enjoy real and enduring pleasures — 
It is the truth expressed in plain and forci¬ 
ble language; and how strango it is that 
mankind, who in most pursuits adopt tho 
directest means for the accomplishment of 
their ends, should so generally neglect this 
straight, sure road to happiness. 
“ ’ Tis conscience doth make cowards of us all.” 
but “ Do your duty thoroughly,” and you 
shall have courago to brave every danger— 
to endure the scorn and insults of tho 
howling many—and yet feel in your own 
soul a confident peaco, that the loftiest may 
envy but cannot enjoy. O, it is sweet to 
hoar that unfaltering monitor whisper its 
words of commendation and encourage¬ 
ment. “ That is right—you have done your 
duty!” How bitter—how 'destructive to 
happiness, on tho contrary, is its condemna¬ 
tion—when wo must own to cur own 
hearts— 
“ Ye knew your duty but ye did it not;” 
and he that “lives up to his light” never 
listens to those reproaches, or writhes un¬ 
der the romorso they bring him. 
As to happiness and tho means of its at¬ 
tainment, “ Poverty or riches don’t make a 
straw’s difforenceo ither way.” So says Un¬ 
cle Phil. and ho is supported in his assertion 
by both reason and revelation. Tho poor 
have duties to perform as well as tho rich, 
and if these are performed, they have just 
as good a ground for contentment hero and 
a bright hope of happiness hereafter, as tho 
rich, and the same. All aro on one level 
hero. If to tho poor less is given, from 
them less is required. No ono is accounta¬ 
ble for tho possessions of another, and thoso 
who have little wealth, have but little anxie¬ 
ty about its safety and proper disposal. 
For every man, woman, and child, for tho 
world at largo, this is tho true “ secret of 
happiness,”—Do your duty thoroughly to 
yourself, your neighbors, and your Creator. 
H. 
